


The Demon-Dragon of Hell’s Kitchen

by Faye_Claudia



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medival Times, Beauty and the beast retelling, F/M, Fairytale elements, Gen, M/M, Magic, Matt is a dragon, S1E1, Season 1, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Claudia/pseuds/Faye_Claudia
Summary: Everyone knew that the Devil Of Hell’s Kitchen was a Dragon. A massive, red and black scaled beast with demonic horns protruding from his ghastly head and glistening white fangs as long as a man’s forearm visible in a twisted attempt at a sadistic grin.





	The Demon-Dragon of Hell’s Kitchen

Everyone knew that the Devil Of Hell’s Kitchen was a Dragon. A massive, red and black scaled beast with demonic horns protruding from his ghastly head and glistening white fangs as long as a man’s forearm visible in a twisted attempt at a sadistic grin. 

“He can always hear you; even from his hoard.” The people of the city-state Clinton would whisper. “He can smell your fear and hear your screams, but he only punishes those who have denied and disobeyed God.” 

Mothers warned children of the dragon to keep them inline, Priests declared that the Demon-Dragon was a punishment from heaven for the excessive amount of crime Clinton was renowned for. 

Lord Wilson named the Dragon an evil, one that needed to be purged from Hell’s Kitchen in order to restore the City-State to what it once was. 

For a very long time; only Sir Franklin Nelson, a noble man of learning rather than of war, knew the true story of the Dragon-Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, not that anybody was aware of his knowledge. 

Sir Nelson was the youngest born to the Nelson Family and - as the forth child - had inherited no real title, and instead of practice combat and politics like his older sisters, Sir Franklin Nelson studied every subject he could get his hands on. 

Sir Franklin lived in his family’s summer home, a small villa high on the mountain where the Dragon-Devil was rumoured to live - near the abandoned Murdock estate and there he spent most of his days with his nose in a book; unless he was called upon to help aid his oldest sister as an advisor. The Nelson Family’s influence had lessoned significantly in the last years in which Lord Wilson had risen to power, so now, Franklin was rarely seen in town. 

Karen Page wasn’t an important person in town. In fact; she wasn’t even from Clinton. She’d recently found a job as a maid for a city council member, but bad luck chased Karen Page like a curse through the lands. She had found doctored tax records that her master had hidden in his study, and had narrowly escaped with her life as he ordered the city guardsmen after her, claiming she was a traitor and a witch. 

She gasped for breath as twigs caught in her hair and her legs burned from the exertion of running uphill. The mountain had been the only place where Karen could imagine finding refuge from the parties hunting for her. She ran without thought of anything but to get away, to hide. Behind her, she could hear the thud-clunk-thud-clunk of the chainmail and leather clad city guard as they thundered after her. With her heart hammering away in her chest; Karen pushed forward, twisting through the foliage and ignoring how her clothes caught on outstretched branches and her feet tripped on gnarled roots. 

She had no way of telling how she had arrived at the castle. And it was definitely a castle. The large gothic structure loomed suddenly in front of her, out of the mountainous forest ominously, its towers and spires reaching for the darkening sky overhead with gargoyles sneering down at her from the parapets. She briefly entertained the idea of turning away and finding a friendlier place to spend the night, before the barks of hunting dogs reached her ears. 

They were hunting her like an animal. 

She hiked up her ragged skirts and scaled the wrought-iron gate that stood guard in front of the haunting estate. 

***

“Foggy,” a deep voice rumbled, rousing Sir Nelson from his sleep. “Foggy,” a large, scaled snout shoved at the man. 

“Go ‘ay Matt.” He waved his hand in the general direction from which the snout had come. 

“Foggy, there’s someone outside the Castle.” 

That woke the man from his slumber rather effectively. “What? Who? Are we fighting?” 

The dragon snorted at his partner. “As if you could fight off an army.” At the man’s noise of protest; the dragon shook his monstrous head, blew smoke from his nostrils and continued. “It’s a woman, she sounds scared, her heartbeat is fast and her breaths shallow. I think,” the dragon tilted his head like a dog, “she is climbing over the gate. Go help her Foggy. There are hunting hounds chasing her.” 

Sir Franklin (Foggy) Nelson might not have been the most impressive or imposing man you’d ever meet; and he might’ve enjoyed good food and good mead a bit more than was strictly necessary, but beneath his podgy outward appearance and his dry humour, was a heart of gold. A trait which he thoroughly resented as he crawled out of his comfortable bed and out into the steel-grey gardens of Schloss Murdock in nothing but his nightgown, holding only a single lit candle, all the while complaining bitterly about the cold. 

All his concerns for his own well being were forgotten though as he caught sight of a golden-haired young woman with wide eyes and tattered clothes. He quickly rushed to her side, attempting to soothe her fear and coax her into the dragon-fire warmed castle. She didn’t put up much of a fight, although she insisted she’d only stay a few hours before she needed to leave again. 

“Nonsense. You’ll stay until you’re no longer bleeding and possibly dying of hyperthermia.” Sir Franklin informed her, and led her to a relatively clean room. Most of the Murdock family staff had left when the late Lord Murdock had passed.  
“I hope this is okay, many rooms here haven’t been tended to in a long time.” 

The young woman sniffed. “It’s, it’s more than enough. Thank you.” 

“I think there should be some clothes left behind by the late lady of the house, if you’d like to wear something other than...well, something more comfortable.” He stopped himself short of insulting the woman’s worn and rough wollen clothing.” 

“The late lady? Your wife?” She asked, and Franklin laughed. “Heaven’s no. The master’s mother.” 

“You’re a servant here?” She tucked her hair behind her left ear, still not meeting his eyes. 

“No, I’m a friend of the Master’s. I’ve lived with him since...well, a good ten years now, I think.” Something occurred to him. “Oh, I’m Sir Franklin Nelson, at your service.” 

Karen reeled back, pushing her weight onto her her heels and stumbling away from the man. 

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, my lord, I’m not...I thank you for your kindness but I’m just a servant girl, I didn’t mean...I’ll sleep in the stables and leave before the sun...” She would have made to move if the man - the lord - hadn’t been blocking the doorway. 

“Nonsense. You clearly someone who’s in desperate need of help, and I can provide it. Titles mean little to myself and the master. You’ll be just fine in the castle until you’ve healed, and then we can help you with whatever it is that has you in trouble.” 

“I...” Karen took a deep breath. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she wasn’t sure how to process the last 12 hours of her life. “My name’s Karen Page. I found doctored tax reports in my employer’s study, a city councilman. He...I’m being hunted as a witch.” 

“Are you a witch?” The man asked, his expression almost hopeful. Karen couldn’t comprehend why he would want a witch in his home. 

“No, of course not, I would never practice dark arts.” 

“Not all witches are dark, Miss Page.” He spoke softly. “But I believe you. We’ll keep you safe.” 

“I...what if they find me? They’ll hurt you and the master too,” her eyes widened in panic. “I must leave, sir I’m not worth-“ 

“I highly doubt they’d get past the master, and you need to rest. Please, one night, and we can discuss how we move forward from here in the morning.” He shut down any further argument she might’ve made by bowing, bidding her goodnight, and shutting the door to her borrowed room firmly. 

Karen Page breathed in deeply, sneezed once from the amount of dust in the room, and decided that as soon as the sky was light, she’d be on her way, away from this strange castle and it’s unusual inhabitants. 

***

“I like her.” Matt declared from where he was perched at the top of the spiralling staircase in the ballroom. 

“Of course you do.” Foggy rolled his eyes. “She’s pretty, she’s in trouble and she’s selfless.” 

“How would I know if she’s pretty?” The dragon snorted. His blindness was one of the worst-kept secretes of Hell’s Kitchen - if anyone had cared to look past the scales and claws and fire breathing. 

“I don’t know, but you have always been able to tell. Let it be known, if there is a beautiful woman in the vicinity, Lord Mathew Murdock is going to attract her, and Sir Franklin Nelson is going to suffer for it.” 

“You over-exaggerate.” Matt waved a scaled claw dismissively. “She needs our help, so we’re going to help her. Plus, she has information on the corrupt city officials. We can help her and she can help us.” 

“She’s terrified. I don’t know how much she’ll be able to help us.” Foggy voiced his opinion. Matt wasn’t dissuaded. “Well, we can help her, now come, I’m going to sleep.” With that he swooped down, an impressive vision of black and red, and settled into his nest-hoard of gold and gems - a combination of his inheritance from his father and gold he’d liberated from corrupt officials - in the centre of the ballroom. “Will you really sleep? Or will you leave to punish the guilty as soon as I am no longer awake?” Foggy asked pointedly. 

“I...” Matt turned his head away guiltily. “I have no intention of leaving tonight.” 

“Good,” Foggy nodded, before climbing over piled treasures and snuggling into a nest of satin and silk pillows and blankets. The dragon bowed his head down towards his best friend, blew a puff of warm breath over him, and then curled his tail around him as he settled down to sleep as well. 

Neither had wanted to discuss the possibility of what Karen Page might represent to Matt

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago, and although I’d absolutely love to; I’m not sure I’ll write more on this. Ideally this would become a multi-chapter fic that covers the plot of season 1; unforutnalty though, I don’t think I have the time and energy to do that right now.


End file.
